


The Walking Dead

by lucidscreamer



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, The Crow: Stairway To Heaven
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Humor, a little dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-12-23
Updated: 2000-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 22:26:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13109757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucidscreamer/pseuds/lucidscreamer
Summary: Grissom was on his way into the morgue when he bumped into the corpse on its way out, and the phrase 'dead man walking' suddenly took on a whole new meaning.





	The Walking Dead

Grissom was on his way into the morgue when he bumped into the corpse on its way _out_ , and the phrase 'dead man walking' suddenly took on a whole new meaning. In all his years as a CSI, it was the first time he'd ever witnessed a body skipping out on its own autopsy. Caught by surprise, he stared at the dead man. The dead man stared back.

And then the dead man spoke.

He said, "Oops."

Something in Grissom rebelled. If corpses were going to sneak out of the morgue under their own power, they could damn well come up with something better to say than 'oops' when they ran into him. Lips pursed, he raised an eyebrow at the uncooperative corpse.

"' _Oops_ '? That's the best you can do?"

Dark eyes peered sheepishly at him from beneath a veil of equally dark hair. "Sorry?"

Grissom's other eyebrow rose to meet its companion. "Going somewhere?"

"Uh... Yes?"

"Care to tell me where?"

"Not really." The corpse straightened, folded his arms across his chest, and assumed an expression obviously meant to deter further argument. "Well, it's been real, but if you don't mind, I really need to get out of here."

Grissom's brows folded into a frown. "I _do_ mind, actually. We usually prefer the victim to stick around for the autopsy."

"Yeah, I think I'll pass on that one." The corpse shifted to one side of the corridor, trying to dodge around Grissom. Grissom moved to block him again. "Seriously, man, I have things to do--"

"So do I. Like solving your murder. I kind of need you stick around for that."

The corpse snorted a humorless laugh. "You're a few years too late if you want to solve _my_ murder. Not to mention way outta your jurisdiction."

Grissom's brows shot back up.

"Port Columbia, Washington. Halloween, 1998. Eric Draven and Shelly Webster. Google it."

In a move far too fast to be even remotely human, the corpse -- Eric Draven? -- darted around him and sprinted down the corridor. Grissom gave chase, but when he turned the corner, there was no sign of anyone, living or otherwise. He stood scanning the empty hallway, his heart pounding from exertion and anger and the adrenaline rush that was part of each, with a little bit of fear thrown in for good measure.

"Lose something?" an amused voice asked from behind him.

Grissom glanced back to find Nick approaching from the cross corridor. Various answers to that seemingly simple question danced on his tongue: his mind? The murder victim?

"Not sure," he said, and took notice of the file folder in Nick's hand.

Following his gaze, Nick held up the folder. "Got an I.D. on our John Doe." He nodded in the general direction of the morgue.

"Let me guess. Eric Draven of Port Columbia, Washington."

"How--?" Nick gaped at him, then shook his head. "Never mind. The best part is that, according to the Port Columbia police, Draven was killed on--"

"Halloween, 1998."

"Okay, _what the hell_? Have you suddenly developed psychic powers or something?"

"Well..." Grissom shrugged. "The dead _have_ been talking to me."

Not waiting to hear Nick's spluttered response, Grissom went to see about a BOLO for Eric Draven.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a really old ficlet that has been languishing in a WIP folder forever. I could never find a satisfactory final line for it. I'm still not happy with the weak ending, but I'm posting it anyway.


End file.
